Brown Eyed Girl
by piccolina789
Summary: They're deep, dark and full of untold stories. His attraction to her eyes is just the beginning as Nick and Sara work an out-of-town case together. Snickers, WIP, rated T to be safe.
1. Dreams

_A/N: So after immersing myself in GSR fics the last few weeks, I sit down to write and what comes out? Snickers. I have to admit, I love Sara and Nick together, and this first chapter just sort of flowed out. This is all that I have written at the moment, but I intend on continuing it this weekend, so stay with me. I have an idea where the story will go :) _

_ps- I did LOVE the reviews I got on my GSR story, so I think I'll head back to that ship next. Just waiting for a little inspiration to strike. _

_Review, if you'd like! xx_

* * *

It was a deep, deep sleep. Usually, when I fell asleep in the break room, it was one of those half-sleep naps, where you're still vaguely aware of where you are and what is going on beyond your closed eyelids. But the caseload lately was getting to me, and I found myself knocked out in one of the break room's squashy brown couches. And I was dreaming.

I would later recall it as the most vivid dream I would ever have. But its simplicity confused me. All I saw, all I dreamt, was a pair of eyes. A pair of dark, deep, chocolate-colored eyes that had a certain vivacity behind them. But even as I dreamt them, I dream-wondered whose they were. They weren't Kristy's, whose eyes had been cloudless-sky-blue. My ex-girlfriend's were green. They didn't even belong to one of my sisters, all of whom had hazel. I found myself feeling confused, as I desperately wanted to place where those brown eyes came from. Because looking at them, so vividly pictured in my mind, drew me so deep into them I didn't want to stop looking. They were kind, yet sad, and it seemed like there were hours upon hours of story behind them. I wanted to hear those stories. I wanted to own those eyes.

_Nick._

I concentrated harder, looking at every fleck in the color, sinking deeper into their rich brownness. Still nothing.

_Nick. _

The eyes were shaking. No, I was shaking. I opened my eyes groggily, pulled reluctantly away from the dream.

"Nick!"

It was Sara's voice, and probably Sara's hands, that were urging me to awake. I groaned, but turned toward her, only to be shocked at what I found.

Deep, dark, chocolate-brown eyes. _Those_ eyes. Her eyes.

The back of my mind alerted me that I was staring, but I couldn't stop. It was like I was seeing her for the very first time.

I was aware that she was watching me curiously, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips puckered slightly in the way that her lips sometimes do, an expression of both intrigue and surprise etched on her face. Unlike my gaping face, her expression passed quickly.

"We're, um, in the conference room," she said. "Grissom's handing out assignments."

"Right," I replied, finally tearing my gaze away from her eyes and burying my head in my fingers. "Assignments."

"Yeah… so you should probably… move," Sara said evenly when I didn't move an inch, a tone of curiosity still in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine," I said, waving her off. "Tired."

"I hear ya," she said, flashing me a smile as I grunted and groaned my way off the couch.

We made our way to the conference room together, but in silence. I was still contemplating that damned dream. Why, _why_, was I dreaming of her eyes? Sara's eyes. My _co-worker's_ eyes. Instinct automatically jumped to the most obvious reason.

_But I don't have feelings for her_, I assured myself. Sure, I liked her. I had from the moment she joined our team, which was more than Warrick and Catherine could say. I was even slowly growing to love her, but like a _sister._

With these thoughts swirling around in my head, we joined the rest of the team, Sara sitting on the arm of Warrick's chair and me leaning against a bookshelf.

"Glad you could join us, sleepyhead," Grissom said in my direction, his head cocking slightly. I knew he was joking, but my grin back at him was still sheepish.

"Busy shift," he continued. "Warrick, B&E in Henderson, all yours."

He handed a half sheet of paper to Warrick, who stretched from the couch to receive it.

"Suspicious circs," he mumbled to himself. He smiled at Sara, winked at Catherine and nodded towards me. "I'm off."

"Catherine, 419 near Lake Mead," Grissom said. "I've got paperwork to do, but I'll meet you out there when I'm finished."

"Great," Catherine said distractedly, her eyes running over her own sheet of paper. "See you guys later."

"What about us?" Sara asked.

"Also a 419," Grissom responded, handing the details to Sara. "In McDermitt."

"_McDermitt_?" Sara repeated. "That's at least a nine-hour drive."

"That's why Nicky's going with you," Grissom said coolly. "Company."

I think Sara winked at me, but my eyes were on the paper in her hands.

"But McDermitt is way outside our jurisdiction, enlighten me as to why _we're_ responding to the call?"

"Sheet explains it all," Grissom said, already heaving a stack of files and papers into his hands. "Guy's an ex-con, has ties in Vegas, including a smash and grab and a couple of break-ins from over the last few years. Vegas case, Vegas CSIs."

For a second, he looked confused as to why we weren't more enthusiastic.

"I booked you a hotel," he said, handing me another paper. "Whole trip's on company dime. As long as you don't eat five-star."

I didn't think there probably _was_ any five-star joints in McDermitt, Nevada, but I didn't say so. Grissom was already out the door with a jovial, _have fun_.

"Well, you and me, cowboy," Sara said, nudging my shoulder playfully with hers. We teased and touched each other all the time at work, but for some reason, this action sent a quick shudder down my spine.

"I'll run home, get my stuff together," Sara was saying, obviously and thankfully oblivious to my reaction to her touch. "Meet you back here in a half hour?"

"Nah, I'll come pick you up."

Her eyes narrowed for a split second.

"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll let you drive just this once. But I am _not_ listening to country music for nine hours."

She left the conference room, her last two words hanging in the air around me. _Nine hours_. Nine hours with the one person on the team I had hoped to briefly avoid, just until I could sort these thoughts out. Nine hours with those eyes.

* * *

_Yes? No? Good? Horribly terrible? Let me know what you think!_


	2. Hour One

_A/N: Another chapter in Snickers world :) I think each of the nine hours of the trip will have a differently themed conversation. Here's hour one. _

_

* * *

_

"Once you get out of Vegas, Nevada is boring."

Driving with Sara was comparable to driving with a small child. She was well behaved for the first ten minutes, but became restless, impatient and wouldn't stop asking "_are we there yet?_" every five minutes after we left the blinking lights of Sin City behind.

"There's plenty to do in Nevada besides Vegas," I countered.

"Name one."

"Boulder City," I shot back at her. "Just 20 minutes from Vegas."

She shot me a look back.

"Moot point, there is _nothing _to do in Boulder City," she said.

"Lake Tahoe ring a bell?" I pressed. "State parks, hiking…?"

"Okay, okay," she cut in, getting my point. "So there's stuff to do."

I smiled in my victory.

"It's just not _interesting_ stuff…"

I shook my head at her stubbornness.

"Dare I ask what _you_ think constitutes interesting?"

She shrugged her shoulders a little bit, thinking.

"There was always stuff to do in San Francisco," she said thoughtfully.

As I consider her point, I realize I knew next to nothing about Sara's life before the one she's currently living as graveyard CSI in Las Vegas, Nevada. Granted, she'd only been on the team about a month, but it took less than that for me to learn that Warrick was a UNLV grad raised by his grandmother and Catherine a single mother and ex-stripper. My mother would be ashamed. _Manners, Nick,_ she would always tell me, i_s the most important thing for a gentleman to maintain. _

"Did you like it better there, in San Francisco?" I asked.

She ponders this question too, chewing on her lip a little. I note that Sara's never one to rattle off a pre-composed, generic answer, at least not when it comes to questions like these. She always gives truthful, genuine responses.

"Not better or worse, per se, but it was different," she said finally.

"Different how?"

"They were… stricter," she replied. "More focused on numbers. Playing by the rules, doing everything by the books…"

"_You_ left _that_?" I teased, knowing her tendency to do everything to the letter of protocol.

"Haha," she teased back. "They were too professional for me."

"Too professional?"

"Yeah," she went on. "Like, they would never go out for breakfast after shift like we all do. Or call each other for non-work-related reasons. Or really care anything about what goes on in each other's lives outside of the lab."

I knew what she meant after her explanation, and I agreed with her decision for a more people-based lab. Warrick, Catherine, Grissom… even Greg sometimes, they felt more like family than they did co-workers. Not having that kind of relationship would leave a huge hole in how the lab operated.

"Do you miss it?"

"A little. The city, more than anything. Besides college and grad school, I'd never really lived anywhere other than California."

"Tamales Bay, right?" I asked, crossing my fingers I was correct.

"Right."

"So your family's still there?"

I could tell, even with her sunglasses shielding her eyes, that the dynamic had suddenly changed. Behind those glasses, I knew her eyes were no longer engaged and sparkling.

"Kinda."

Another realization swept through me as I tried to recall any instance where Sara had mentioned her family. I couldn't think of one. As much as the investigator in me was dying to know, there was an obvious reason why Sara didn't want to share, and I didn't press it, swiftly changing the topic.

"So I had to hear this from… of all people, Greg Sanders, but you never told me you were a genius."

"What?" Sara asked playfully, the smile back on her face.

"I mean, I'd assumed you were _smart_, I mean, you'd have to be, but we're talkin' full-on genius level here," I went on, not even bothering to contain the grin spreading across my own face.

"Nick," Sara beseeched. "What the hell?"

"You went to college at sixteen?"

Sara made a surprised noise.

"What, you go through my file or something?"

"I told you, Greg Sanders."

"That little twerp," Sara muttered. She laughed a second later. "Yeah, I graduated early. But that doesn't make me a genius."

"Graduated early and went on to _Harvard_?" I pressed. "That qualifies."

Sara rolled her eyes in response.

"What were you like in college, Sara?"

She snorted.

"Studious. Nerdy. Quiet. Just like I was in high school."

"I take it you probably weren't a sorority girl then?" I asked, flashing her another smile.

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response," she said indignantly, but barely containing a grin of her own.

"What made you go into forensics?"

I knew I'd probably asked before, but I was interested in what she'd say now, given the comfortable banter we'd kept up for nearly an hour.

"The thrill of it. The science," she said. "The justice."

I nodded.

"I can see that."

"See what?"

"The justice bit," I said. "That's what did it for me too. Half the job's putting together the puzzle, but the real thrill of it comes when you see its conclusion."

She nodded excitedly, like she always did when talking about work.

"The best part is catching the ones that thought they were going to get away," she said, her voice revealing her excitement. "It's like, _ha! Think again, bastard!_"

I laughed out loud, but nodded my head, completely understanding. I throw a glance in her direction and see that she's cozied up against the window, a contented, gentle smile on her lips, and I can't help but smile myself. Sara was nothing if not passionate and dedicated. A lurch deep in my gut alerts me that I'd been looking at her way too long, and I turn my attention back to the road ahead. But my thoughts linger on her. She's fascinating, Sara Sidle, and I loved hearing about her. Nine hours… I might need more.


	3. Hour Two

_A/N: Quick thanks to Mma63 and jdcocoagirl for reviewing the first two chapters, loving your guys' feedback!_

* * *

"So, Nicholas."

I raised my eyebrows slightly at her use of my full name, but stayed quiet, waiting for what she'd say next.

"You've managed to make me talk an entire hour about myself," she went on. "Not easily accomplished. But… it's your turn."

"Shoot."

"Okay… why'd you leave Texas?"

"I'm wanted in four counties."

"Nick."

I smiled at her.

"I love my family," I started off, serious this time. "Sunday dinners, babysitting for the nieces and nephews, I loved it. I still love it. But my parents… they were both incredibly gifted and intelligent, and I guess I felt like I could never… live up to what they wanted me to be."

Sara stayed silent, but nodded.

"I wanted to make a name for myself in a town and a crime lab where no one knew my parents and their legacy," I continued. "The Dallas lab… it was great, but I was suffocating. I wanted a town that was as different as possible from the quiet ranch town I grew up on."

"Vegas," Sara finished.

"Vegas," I repeated. "Not long after I moved, I got the offer for a CSI position at the lab, and, well, the rest is history."

"You're really good at what you do, Nick."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise at her offhand comment. It wasn't usually like Sara to dish out random compliments.

"Thanks, Sara."

"So, um," she said, clearing her throat. "How big is your family, exactly?"

"Youngest of seven," I answered. "One brother and five sisters."

"Wow. Could you not _wait_ to get out?"

I shot her a confused look.

"Of course not," I said. "I loved my big family. My brother was moved out by the time I was in elementary school, but my sisters loved hanging out with me."

I laughed.

"Actually, I think they just loved teasing me," I said, smiling at the memories. "They dressed me up in everything from their ballet costumes to Dad's suits."

"And you still turned out okay?" Sara joked.

"Absolutely," I said. "They always looked out for me. And now, I look out for them."

"That must be nice," Sara said, so softly I could barely hear her.

Another realization dawned on me.

"You an only child Sara?"

"No," she said simply, her voice verging on a whisper. "I have a brother."

I could sense a pleading tone in her voice that indicated she didn't want to say anything more.  
"My… my mother still calls four times a week," I said, shifting the focus off Sara's family and back on mine. "Kind of annoying, but, the woman did raise me."

Sara made a noise that sounded like she attempted to laugh, but couldn't quite manage it. She cleared her throat quickly and turned back to me.

"So, what were_ you_ like in college?" she asked, shooting my own question back at me.

"You don't want to know," I laughed.

"Yes," Sara urged, punching me on the shoulder. "I do."

I sighed.

"I was a jock," I answered. "A frat guy. The guy who partied nearly every weekend and had the hangover on Monday to prove it."

I winced just slightly after letting the confession out. Sara knew that I had pledged in college – I had told her so during our homicide case at the fraternity house. Why I cared so much, I didn't know. But I did.

"Do you still talk to your frat brothers?"

I thought about that. A few of us – Drew, Jason, Kevin – still kept in touch by e-mail. But the others pretty much fell by the wayside after graduation day.

"Not really," I admitted.

"You were a ladies' man, weren't you?"

I shoot her a look of mock disbelief, clutching my heart for added effect.

"Now, Sara, what would make you say that?"

Sara just smiled at me more.

"You're _still_ a ladies' man," she smirked.

I let out a laugh.

"Oh, that's the reputation I have around the lab is it?" I teased, fully aware that it was.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is," Sara teased right back.

I shot a quick glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Leaning back comfortably in the seat of the Denali, the morning sun glaring behind her and a rare, genuine smile on her face, she was positively radiant. I forced myself to look away.

"Well then, you might be happy to know that it's really not true at all," I said, serious this time.

"Just an over exaggeration?"

"More like a misconceived impression," I correct.

Sara was silent at that.

"I mean, the frat boy in me who is refusing to believe he's growing up still likes to party," I went on. "Don't get me wrong. But really, when it comes down to it, when I find a girl I really want to be with… I'm going to be with her. And only her."

Sara's quiet at this too, but this time, she turns towards me, the corners of her mouth quirking up slightly. I smile back at her, and we sit there for a few moments, lost in thought.


End file.
